


be'sol

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [25]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Comfortember 2020, Gen, Good Parent Jango Fett, Jango Fett has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Minor Injuries, Obi-Wan Kenobi Has The Darkaber, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Parental Jango Fett, Past Jango Fett/Myles the Mandalorian, Protective Jango Fett, Revenge, Sexual Slavery, Shmi Skywalker Deserves Better, Slavery, Whumptober 2020, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, disorientation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (priority)Obi-Wan’s thirteen, technically of-age, but he’s still Jango’s responsibility, he's still his to protect. Instead, he had dragged Obi-Wan into his hunt for revenge, he had put the kid who should have been his priority in danger without even thinking about it.(No.25 - I Think I'll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks)(No.4 - Anxiety)
Relationships: Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949908
Comments: 42
Kudos: 652





	be'sol

Jango’s not even a year out of slavery when he finally tracks down Tor Vizsla. The _chakaaryc hut’uun_ hadn’t made much of an attempt to hide himself or his forces at first, not until Jango had started picking his way through his terrorist cells with the clear intention of going after Vizsla himself. Vizsla was a coward, he always had been, so when he had heard that Jango had resurfaced from his enslavement and was coming after him, he had turned and fled, sending commandos and assassins after Jango to hopefully kill him before he tracked him down. Vizsla had been trying to stay one step ahead of him, but Jango has contacts and a long reach, and plenty of stubborn determination.

He has a single-minded focus on Vizsla, to enact justice for the slaughter of his people and see Vizsla pay for his part in the treachery. Obi-Wan’s been a great help to Jango’s mission; his _ad_ is smart, and charming, and very unassuming. The _adiik_ is able to swindle information out of a target without the sentient being any wiser, and slip away without gaining suspicion, because who would suspect a tiny slip of a child with fluffy hair and big eyes? He’s a quick study, and soaks up any lesson Jango offers him, and he quickly surpasses Jango’s own slicing skills. Obi-Wan is eager to help, happy to please, and even if he had moral arguments against what Jango was doing, he followed behind him loyally.

The _Jetiise_ didn’t know what they had thrown away, but Jango isn’t about to alert them of it. He won’t be losing anyone else - not to the _Jetiise_ and not to _Kyr’tsad_ . Obi-Wan is his now, and Jango won’t be giving him up until his _ad_ is strong enough to face whatever the world throws at him.

They track Vizsla to Tatooine, to a small port where he and some of his commandos were celebrating a successful bounty. Anger and hatred burns in his stomach at the sight of the ship that had been docked. It tastes like bile in his mouth as he stares at the crude paint job and the emblem of Death Watch emblazoned on the hull. It’s _Jaster’s Legacy_ ; the AIAT/i that Jango had owned, and Jaster before him as well. It’s the ship Jango had called home since he was eight years old and freshly orphaned; he had grown up on it when he and Jas’buir weren’t staying at the _Haat’ade_ compound in Keldabe. To see it defiled by the very people behind the death of his _Buire_ and _aliit_ makes Jango’s fury ignite like a supernova.

The _Kyr’stad hutuun’le_ don’t know what hits them. Jango plows through Vizsla’s badly trained guards like a rampaging kyrat dragon, Obi-Wan watching his back like a shriek-hawk and shooting the stragglers that slip through Jango’s guard in places that would keep them down but not kill them. His hatred burns like fire in his veins, but every fallen Kyr’tsad commando still doesn’t lessen the heat or the ringing in his ears. _Jaster’s Legacy_ still accepts Jango’s codes, likely the result of arrogance, and it stops any alarms from going off and alerting anyone to his presence as Jango tears through the drunken _aruetiise_.

He finds Vizsla in what had once been Jaster’s room. Jango hadn’t been able to bring himself to claim it after Jaster’s death, so it had stayed the way Jaster had left it up until Galidraan. Vizsla had poisoned the room with his presence; all of his _Buir_ ’s datapads and charts were gone, replaced instead with even more of Vizsla’s crest. There are two naked Humans on the bed, and half armoured Vizsla lounging between them. All three of them freeze when Jango bursts in, westars drawn, but Vizsla is still a trained ramikad, despite being a traitorous coward without any kind of honour, and he’s rolling to his feet almost immediately, throwing his bed partners aside to lunge for the hilt of the _dha’kad_ laying on the shelf nearest to him.

Seconds after Vizsla’s fingers touch the Darksaber, however, the hilt is pulled away by an invisible hand, flying past Jango to slam into Ob’ika’s outstretched palm.

Smart kid, using the Force to take Vizsla’s greatest weapon from him, and effectively drawing everything to a stand-still.

Vizsla’s pale eyes dart between Jango and the boy who had disarmed him, calculating. “Jango Fett.” The _chakaar_ says slowly, and Jango’s fingers tighten around his blasters. “I see you’re still alive. How _disappointing_.”

Under his helmet, Jango bares his teeth, “Try harder next time, _hut’uun_.”

Vizsla chuckles, but his eyes shimmer with rage at the insult, “I’ll be sure of it.” He sneers, “I see you’ve taken after Mereel and picked up a mongrel yourself.’

“You don’t get to talk about my _Buir_ .” Jango tells him with a snarl, “And if you touch my _ad_ , I’ll separate you from your hands.”

“You wouldn’t challenge an unarmed man.” Vizsla says with a slimy chuckle that has anger trickling down his spine, and Jango bites off the snippy retort he wants to make about what he’d do with Vizsla’s arms and how _unarmed_ he could make him. “Mereel must have taught you about the laws of challenge.”

Jango growls, “What would _you_ know about proper challenges! You’re a _hut’uun_ who can’t win a battle without cowardly tricks!”

Vizsla bares his teeth, pale eyes dark with sick amusement and hatred, “Then challenge me, _boy_.” He mocks, “Challenge me, and let the Manda decide the outcome.”

Snarling, Jango sheaths his blasters, “Meet me on the field, Tor _be_ Vizsla, and face me like a _Mando’ad_ or be named _dar’Manda_.”

“I’d need my _baskar’gam_ first.” Vizsla says blandly, and Jango glowers at him.

“Then get to it.”

“ _Buir_ .” Beside him, Obi-Wan speaks up, but Jango doesn’t risk taking his eyes off of Vizsla as the man methodically, and slowly, puts on his _beskar’gam_. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“It’s fine, Ob’ika.” Jango assures him through clenched teeth, “I won’t lose.”

“That’s not-”

“What of my Darksaber?” Vizsla interrupts, tilting his head, but even with his _buy’ce_ on, Jango knows the man is watching Obi-Wan with disturbing intensity.

Jango bristles, stepping in front of the boy and setting his shoulders in a silent threat, “What about it?” He barks, “You were disarmed - you lost the right to wield it.”

“ _Jango-_ ” Obi-Wan’s voice shakes nervously.

Something in Vizsla’s body language changes, and it’s enough of a warning that has Jango going for his blasters again. He doesn’t get the chance to unsheath them, instead something rams into his side with enough force to throw Jango towards the wall. He hits the metal hard enough to rattle him in his armour and make his ears ring.

Disorientated, Jango almost misses the haunting sound of the Darksaber activating, followed by the noise of a small explosion and ringing screams. Jango stumbles to his feet, HUD glitching, and he has to pull his _buy’ce_ off to see what is happening, westars in hand.

Vizsla is gone, his bed partners huddled in the corner, cowering with fear, and Obi-Wan is picking himself up off the floor. The Darksaber is in his small hands, black blade humming, and there’s singed marks on his flight suit. Wide blue eyes meet Jango’s gaze, and the boy looks close to tears, blood on his temple and scrapes littering his freckled cheeks.

“You let him go?” Jango’s voice trembles when he speaks, rage crawling up his throat. He had been so close. So close to getting vengeance for his _Buire_ and _aliit_. He could have won, he would have killed Vizsla, and he could still catch him if he hurried -

Obi-Wan sways, face chalky, and any thought of revenge melts away as the _dha’kad_ deactivates and the teenager crumbles. Jango darts forward, feeling anxiety rise in place of his anger, catching his _ad’ika_ before he hits the floor. Were there injuries he couldn’t see? Obi-Wan hadn’t had any _beskar_ between him and the explosion. Shaking hands trace across the boy’s thin body, looking for injuries or blood, but the only wound he can see is the cut on his temple - though that doesn’t discount internal bleeding.

Could his _ad_ be dying in his arms? He can’t help but remember holding Jaster in this exact same way, watching the life leave his eyes - would he have to see that happen to Obi-Wan too?

A pale hand reaches up, catching Jango’s chest plate, and the boy clings to him. “I’m sorry.” His ad’ika says shakily, voice slicing through the bubbling panic at the possibility of losing another person he loves, and Jango stares down at the pale face. “I didn’t want to lose you.” Obi-Wan sniffles, wide eyes haunted, “If you had fought him here, you would have died. He was never going to fight fair - his knife is poisoned.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Jango asks, instead of pressing him on the statement, and Obi-Wan shakes his head, curling up against Jango’s chest and tucking his nose into his shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. In response, Jango lets out a low huff, hugging him tighter, guilt heavy on his lungs.

He had dragged Obi-Wan into his hunt for revenge, he had put his kid in danger without even thinking about it. He should be named _dar’buir_ for such an act. Jaster would be disappointed in him. Myles would have spaced him himself and taken on Obi-Wan as only his own, and Jango would have deserved it.

Obi-Wan deserved better than what Jango was giving him.

“I’m sorry, Ob’ika.” Jango murmurs, horrified with himself. Obi-Wan’s thirteen, technically of-age, but he’s still Jango’s responsibility, and Jango could have gotten him killed. He had put revenge over his _ad’ika_ , when Obi-Wan should have been his priority. “ _Ni ceta_.”

“Nayc, Buir.” Obi-Wan responds, “There’s always next time.”

Jango lets out a shaky breath, cradling the boy like the precious gift he is. “No. No, I won’t drag you into this anymore, _ad’ika_.”

“I want to help.”

“I know you do, Ob’ika.” Jango assures, brushing a hand through shaggy copper hair. “But he’s not the priority - he _never_ should have been my priority.” He presses his nose to the top of the boy’s head, and just breathes, trying to push away the lingering buzz of anxiety under his skin. “ _Ni ceta, ad’ika_.”

“I got the ‘saber.” Obi-Wan says quietly, and Jango snorts.

“You did.” He says with a slight laugh, pride taking the place of his anger. Vizsla would be wanting it back, but Jango would make sure he didn’t get close to his son. “Good job, _verd’ika_.”

After a long moment of just holding his _ad_ , Jango sighs, lifting his head to the two naked Humans still cowering in the corner. They hadn’t moved, and were instead staring at the two Mandalorians with wide eyes. He doubted they were warriors, they didn’t hold themselves as such, “Sorry for interrupting your evening.” He says blandly, “Jango Fett, he/him, and this is my son, Obi-Wan.”

The paler Human shifts, putting themself in front of the darker, despite their smaller size. “Shmi, Master Fett. Shmi Skywalker.” Skywalker hesitates in the face of the suddenly sour expression on Jango’s face, but he gestures for them to continue. “She/her.” She murmurs, clasping her hands in front of her chest, brown eyes darting to the other Human with her. “This is Caasi Chanchani, she/her.” She bows her head, seemingly unbothered by her state of undress, while Chanchani keeps her eyes averted.

It only takes Jango moments to recognize their body language, and somehow his respect for Vizsla, which had already been nonexistent, drops even lower.

They’re slaves.

“Your pucks?” Once, _Jaster’s Legacy_ had been stocked with everything he’d need to remove their chips - a lot of the _verde_ were among the Freed, Myles included - but that had been before Kyr’tsad had taken possession of the ship. He couldn’t be sure of the state of anything now, but if he had the puck, he and Obi-Wan could try to disrupt the signal until they could get the women the medical attention they’d need to get the chips removed.

Both women flinch, shuffling, before Chanchani steps forward, head bowed and shoulders curled inwards, the emitter for the bombs planted in their bodies held in shaking hands. Smart, Jango could recognize them easily as Mandokarla. They must have stolen the puck from Vizsla while he had been distracted by their bodies, he’s almost disappointed he’d interrupted them, if only to see if they would have slit his throat.

Jango grins, slow and satisfied, gently lifting the device from the woman’s hands. “I mean you now harm.” He assures them, turning the puck over to study it. It’s an older model, and would be easy to disengage. “Is this the only one?”

Chanchani nods, but it’s Skywalker who speaks again.

“We were rented from Master Gardulla, Master Fett.” Skywalker says quietly, “She would have the master emitter.”

“You don’t need to call me Master.” He tells them, then turns to Obi-Wan, meeting blue eyes as the boy lifts his head, showing him the device. “What do you think, _ad_? Can you deactivate it?”

Obi-Wan grins boyishly while the two women gasp in shock, “‘ _Lek Buir_.”

Neither of them held any love for slavers.


End file.
